I Wanna Be Your Dog
by Katharra
Summary: Sesshoumaru: the name implies a natural born killer, yet even this title is too simplistic given his actions throughout the years. An evolving character study of the most complex dog demon known to date.
1. Lullabye

It was a quiet birth, under a full moon in the waning days of summer, just as the first leaves began to turn and fall under the slightest wind. The mother barely cried out, although the pain of labour was etched on her fine porcelain skin. Her white hair was matted to her forehead; she blew at it impatiently. One of her attendants wiped the strands away and soaked her mistress' sweaty forehead with a cool cloth. Candles burned in every corner of the room; sticks of incense meant to calm the new mother let off silky plumes of smoke. She was supporting herself upright, hands planted firmly into the mat beneath her, fingernails digging into the woven reeds. She had lost many before; she was determined to bring this one through unscathed.

There was a keening wail from the infant as he was grasped by the midwife and pulled from her body. She exhaled deeply in relief. As the women around her scurried to quickly washed the child and inspect it, she scrutinized their every movement, already feeling overprotective of the heir she had not yet laid eyes on.

Finally, he was swaddled and placed on her chest. He was asleep; large eyes closed under eyelids tinted with red. She gingerly touched his face, relishing the feel of his smooth ivory skin. She traced the faint outline of a crescent moon on his forehead, identical to her own.

"He is perfect," the midwife announced.

"Of course he is," she replied. "Was there ever any doubt?"

There was a slight hint of challenge in her voice. No one took the bait. They were all experienced enough to know the deadly consequences of answering her.

There was a commotion outside. The mother's ears picked up the sound of powerful footsteps approaching the birthing room. Her women bustled around her, straightening her silk robes, brushing her hair back and arranging blankets around her, creating a facade that belied the pain and exhaustion she still felt.

When he entered, she was sitting upright with the infant cradled in her arms. Her attendants were prostrate and silent in the background. She smiled coyly at him.

"Your son, my Lord."

He took a tentative step towards mother and child, uncharacteristic given his nature, and then held his arms out expectantly. The bundled child was carefully handed over. The father held his son in front of him, studying his face with wide eyes. He seemed almost fearful of the newborn. Then he smiled widely, enhancing the already menacing look of his elongated canines. "My son," he announced.

He left the room, still holding the infant out in front of him with both hands. He stepped outside into the night air, onto the wide veranda where hundreds of nobles of soldiers stood patiently below the stairs. He held the infant in the air above his head, making the baby squeal and squirm in fright. "My son!" He yelled.

The crowd erupted in cheers and the soldiers triumphantly waved their spears in the air. The heir apparent was born.

The Lord re-entered the birthing room where the mother sat as serenely poised as he had left her. He was now bobbing the infant up and down in his arms, too quickly for the midwife's liking but she was not stupid enough to say so. "He is good," he grinned. "You have done well."

She lowered her eyes and smiled demurely under the compliment.

He studied the infant's face again, eyes taking stock of every feature, categorizing those that came from him and those that came from his mother. "Sesshoumaru," he said quietly. The room was silent, almost holding its breath. "His name will be Sesshoumaru."


	2. Intuition

He saw very little of her growing up. When he did see her, she would smile at him in that sly, aloof way that he had come to identify her with. Many times, he had tried to mimic her limited facial expressions, only to feel foolish when he couldn't get it just right. Then he would break something.

He was growing bored. There was only so much mischief a young pup could get into, only so many soldiers that he could try to attack only to be laughed at. He was a good student; his tutors praised him for his keen mind as if it was something he was not already aware of. But the lessons bored him already and they were less and less a challenge to him. His mind began to wander, and with it, so did his feet. He would stand at openings, gazing out into the clouds when he should have been practicing his calligraphy. His tutors took note.

He was outside, watching the sky, standing as still as stone, with eyes and nose trained on the heavens, watching clouds lazily drift across. He squinted, sniffed the air, and cocked his head to the side. His mother was somewhere in those clouds.

Her form floated into flight, white as the clouds and just as fluid-like. The long silky trail of her ears and tail swished across the sky, curving downwards and finally touching down. She had transformed with her first step upon the white marble steps of her palace, back into the form of a regal princess, with silk robes dangling off her slender shoulders and two white fur boas encircling her feet and neckline.

She was smiling at Sesshoumaru. He stared back with a frown.

"Hello Sesshoumaru," she greeted.

"Where did you go, mother?" Sesshoumaru asked.

Her smile widened. "Nowhere in particular. Have you finished your studies for the day?"

Sesshoumaru ignored the question. "Why did you leave?"

She reached down with one hand while the other clasped the edges of her outer robe together. She let long fingernails drift across the boy's jaw line. "Aren't you a talkative one today?" She withdrew her hand and buried it in the plush fur around her shoulders. "I grow bored." She moved away, her silken robes grazing his body as they swished past him, leaving him standing alone on the steps.

He spent more time alone after that, standing in the courtyards away from prying eyes, practicing everything from the way he walked to his first attempts at transformation, all to emulate her. He used to think that a regal walk was rigidly upright but he realized that his mother's walk was different; it was fluid and nonchalant. He cared less about the small tuft of fur about his shoulder. He used to carry it about under his arm with great pride; instead he started to fling it over his shoulder as if it were nothing so special. He began to smile more; his tutors noticed this with great unease when they corrected his lessons.

"You made a mistake, Lord Sesshoumaru."

The slim lips curved upwards in a sneer. "Did I?"

The effect was instantaneous. The tutor flinched backwards as if he were about to be struck by the young Lord. When no physical punishment came, he continued with the lesson, albeit with a strained grimace planted firmly on his face. Sesshoumaru enjoyed the response immensely.

The first attempts at transformation did not merit any reward. The most he could muster was longer claws and an elongated nose. When he gave up, he found the lower half of his face covered in drool. The embarrassment only fuelled his desire for perfection even more. When he finally achieved the sought-after result, he was angered to find that he was only a fraction the size of his mother's appearance. He stormed back to his wing after that, stomping loudly and snarling at anyone who appeared in his sight.

As he grew, he felt the changes in his veins. A funny tingling at first, followed by odd discharges of greenish ooze from his fingertips. Puzzled, he shook the droplets from his fingers onto the floor. The wood began to sizzle, sending a noxious fume up to his nostrils. He covered his face with a fist as his eyes began to water, but could not look away from the growing hole in the wood. Amazed and utterly confounded, he drew his hand up in front of his face and flexed his fingers, studying them intently.

Now insatiably curious with this new-found gift, he spent as much time alone and outdoors as he could, trying to will his fingers to dispel the green liquid as he had inexplicably done before. Frustration mounted in him that could scarcely be ignored by the rest of the estate when Sesshoumaru stormed through and tossed aside any unwitting servant who managed to get in his way.

He thought he was alone when he was practicing; in fact, he hadn't registered her presence at all until the wind switched directions and he caught her scent suddenly. His head whipped around to find her standing at the forefront of her large entourage, smiling down at him in an amused sort of way. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in furious embarrassment.

She flicked her wrist at her entourage. "Leave us." Dutifully, the crowd of nobles and bodyguards shuffled away leaving mother and son in the secluded courtyard.

"Your stance is all wrong," she chided. She walked towards him and stopped at his side. Then she began rearranging his arms and kicking his legs apart. "If you were to splash yourself with any of that, you would ruin your clothes," she said prudently.

She took his right hand in hers and guided it in front of his body. "Open your fingers up. You don't need the poison to come from all of them, just the three. Now concentrate; draw it up through your veins."

Sesshoumaru's face screwed up in determined concentration.

"Good," his mother coaxed. "Feel it building up in your fingertips. Now, before you release it, hold it there." She turned his wrist inwards, towards his chest. Then she flicked his wrist quickly. "Now! Release!"

A long stream of green acid flew from his fingertips and extended in a graceful arc before falling to the ground and scorching the earth. Sesshoumaru's eyes widened at the sight of it. His mother withdrew her hand and straightened with a satisfied smirk on her face. She folded her arms into the confines of her robe. "There. You have the start of a whip." She turned to walk away, looking over her shoulder at him as she left. "Keep practicing. You have a long way to go before you perfect it."

Sesshoumaru watched her retreating form until it disappeared altogether.


	3. Crawling

What had he expected of his father? Sesshoumaru was not sure, but anticipation was making his nerves jumpy. The exquisitely light touch of his mother stopped him from bouncing on his heels. He looked up at her, though she did not meet his gaze. She was standing as serenely as ever, looking into the beyond at something he could not see. She was poised and calm, without any signs of longing. She looked like she expected nothing more than a typical visit from one of the usual suspects, rather than the long awaited appearance of her mate and the sire to her son. Sesshoumaru frowned.

Her head tilted slightly upwards. Her hand touched him once more. "Do you smell it, Sesshoumaru? The change in the wind?"

He sniffed at the air, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he sorted through the myriad of scents he detected. Then he smelled the overwhelming scent of his father.

How to describe the scent of someone you have never met and yet know so intimately? The scent was powerful and wild; like all the forests and the seas of the world had combined into one tumultuous, breathtaking aroma.

The sight of his father soon followed. The Lord was in his true form and Sesshoumaru gasped in spite of himself. The dog form of his father was at least twice as large as his mother's, filling up the sky with muscular legs and a tail that split into two at the base. The keen red eyes of his father glinted in the sun before they descended upon Sesshoumaru and his mother. Sesshoumaru felt a growing quiver in his stomach that he fought to control.

His father transformed before he set foot upon the white marble steps of his mother's palace. Then he was there, before them, and all of his mother's court prostrated themselves before him. He ignored them and strode confidently towards his mother and him. His mother bowed demurely and Sesshoumaru followed suit. His father only looked at his mother; she pretended to be bashful of his keen gaze.

"You have been well, I trust?" His voice was so low, so strong; Sesshoumaru felt he could have listened to his father speak for a thousand years and never tire of that voice.

"Yes," she replied as she batted her eyelashes at him. "Our most humble and gracious thanks to you, my Lord."

His father nodded, seemingly pleased by the answer. Then his eyes moved and settled on Sesshoumaru. Suddenly unsure of himself and uncomfortable of the attention, Sesshoumaru looked down at his feet before swallowing his fear and meeting his father's gaze once more. This time, he did not look away.

"Sesshoumaru," his father breathed.

"He has grown, has he not?" his mother pointed out. "He has surpassed in all his studies as well. I think you will find that he has a most adept mind. He positively thirsts for knowledge."

His father nodded approvingly at Sesshoumaru. He looked back at his mother and appraised her up and down. "You have done well," he complimented.

She politely bowed again and then stepped back, giving father and son more space.

His father dropped to one knee so he was on level with Sesshoumaru's face. "You have much more to learn, young one. From now on, you will reside in my house and you will learn all that you can from me. Do you understand?"

Sesshoumaru nodded vigorously. His father stood up and turned away, silently expecting Sesshoumaru to follow. Sesshoumaru hesitated, throwing a glance back at his mother. She cocked her head at him. "Go Sesshoumaru. Do as your father commands."


	4. Hands

He was only permitted to watch his father's matches, never to participate. He studied his father's every move intently, fascinated and driven to exceed his father's perfection. His father was fighting without armour or weapon, just as his opponent was. His father's well-toned body moved in ways Sesshoumaru had never witnessed before. It was a mixture of sinewy muscle gliding gracefully into defensive turns, only to revert into brute strength whenever he saw an opening to take a swing. Sesshoumaru unconsciously tightened his fingers into fists, darted his head with his father's defensive moves, twitched his biceps whenever his father threw a punch. His father had not allowed him to fight; he insisted that Sesshoumaru was too young against his seasoned fighters. Sesshoumaru bared his teeth at the thought.

Frustration and boredom was a combination that his father's court was soon learning could be disastrous for Sesshoumaru. Or rather, for everyone or anything in Sesshoumaru's path. His father began to hear reports of tutors being rushed to the healers with gaping bite wounds, deep scratches, and the odd bit of melted flesh. The latest one had gone running to the healers, yelping the entire way with one hand covering an eye. Sesshoumaru had jammed his paintbrush into that eye when the tutor had slapped his hand for an erroneously drawn character. Most of the time, his father would rub a hand over his weary face in exasperation, sometimes he even chuckled, but today he stood, appalled. The rest of his court backed away, surprised by this new course of action and fearful of the results. The look of simmering anger on the great Lord's face emitted even more cowering from his entourage. He followed the howling tutor as he ran down the halls with one hand stretched out in front of him, shuffling his sandaled feet as he urgently sought out the healers.

The great dog demon stood outside the room watching two healers forcefully draw the tutor's hand away from the eye that had the broken end of a paintbrush protruding through it. The tutor cringed and whimpered when the eye was finally exposed. The Lord's chief advisor stood behind him, regarding the scene with morbid interest.

The dog demon growled. "That tears it," he said lowly.

Sesshoumaru heard his name bellowed through the hallways. His father was very angry this time. Nonplussed, he continued to draw on his parchment, holding one sleeve so it did not droop into the black ink while his other hand gracefully traced long lines on the silky white paper. His father burst into the room, seething with unrestrained fury at his only heir. Sesshoumaru did not stop his movements.

"Tell me, how many is that now?" his father questioned. "Ten tutors? Eleven? Stop me when I get close."

"Nine," Sesshoumaru corrected. "I had nothing to do with the unfortunate accident of Nemu-sensei."

His father blinked down at him. "Get up," he said slowly, dangerously. Sesshoumaru languidly looked up at him. "Get up!" He ordered. He took a step towards Sesshoumaru and glowered down at him. "Insolent pup. I imagine this is what you wanted all along. Get outside. Right now."

With an indolent sigh, Sesshoumaru replaced the long brush into the inkpot and leisurely rose to his feet. His head reached his father's shoulders now. He gave his father one slightly bored look before heading outside with his hands tucked neatly into the confines of the large sleeves of his robe. The sounds of many shuffling feet followed, until his father spun around and growled menacingly at the court. "Stay here!" he ordered. The crowd cowered, scurried back and remained where they were until the Lord was outside. Then they ran to the windows to watch.

Sesshoumaru stood with his back to his father, enjoying the feel of the wind trickling long strands of his white hair across his face. His father stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at Sesshoumaru's back.

"Well then, Sesshoumaru?" His father began. "Why don't you take the first strike? Come at me!" He challenged.

Sesshoumaru idly turned around and smiled at his father. "I don't need to," he gravely said. He flicked his wrist at his father, emitting a long stream of green acid in the form of a whip. His father's eyes widened for a fraction before falling to his knees and ducking his head underneath the whip. He watched the whip retract and Sesshoumaru's smug look of satisfaction at already having his father down on one knee without even throwing a punch. His face contorted with rage.

"Damn her," he whispered. He pushed himself to his feet, wiping off stray bits of leaves and dirt from his knees. "An effective long range weapon you have there, my son." He studied Sesshoumaru's calm form carefully. "But I think you will find it not as effective in close range combat."

With frightening speed, too quick for Sesshoumaru to follow, his father was suddenly standing in front of him. Sesshoumaru tried to back away but found his right wrist encased in his father's achingly strong grip. His father held his hand up. "Don't ever try that move on me again." He snapped the wrist backwards. Sesshoumaru gasped as he felt the bones snap. Then his father backhanded him, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Sesshoumaru looked back, saw his father advancing. He kicked his leg out, catching his father in the calf and sending him down on his back. He tried to kick him again, this time in the chest, but his father caught his leg. With a disturbingly gleeful grin, he swung Sesshoumaru end over end into a tree. Sesshoumaru hit face first, splitting the skin over his eye open. He slid down the tree until he was on all fours at the base. Gasping, Sesshoumaru painfully pulled himself upright. His father was approaching him again. Sesshoumaru swung with his left fist; his father caught it and twisted his arm behind his back, pinning the young demon to his chest.

"A foolish swing, my son," his father sneered behind his ear.

Sesshoumaru threw his head backwards into his father's nose. The hold on Sesshoumaru's chest abruptly slackened and he quickly scrambled away, panting for air as he escaped his father's embrace. Blood was gushing from the Lord's nose; he was pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand while scowling at Sesshoumaru. "Not all together foolish, I suppose."

Sesshoumaru cast a suspicious eye over his father, waiting for him to make the next move. It came soon enough, after his father let go of his nose and flicked his, sending a spray of blood to cover the grass with droplets of crimson. Then he was charging Sesshoumaru, driving a shoulder into his chest and pushing him into the tree Sesshoumaru had already made an acquaintance with, effectively knocking the wind out of him. A strong arm gripped Sesshoumaru's windpipe. Sesshoumaru clawed at it desperately with his one good hand. The hand only squeezed tighter.

"You need to learn your place in this world Sesshoumaru," his father said calmly. "While I am alive, it is beneath me. You will do as I say. You will honour and obey me. If you do not, I have no use for you."

He opened his fingers, and Sesshoumaru fell to the ground in a heap of silk, white hair and blood. He looked up at his father, bared his teeth at him for a moment before his father punched him in the jaw and left him unconscious on the ground.

As the Lord strode back inside, flexing his sore hand, his servants eagerly waited permission to exit the castle and collect the young heap he had left behind.

"Leave him," he ordered. "Leave him to care for his own wounds when he has the strength."

Grudgingly, the servants obeyed, some lingering at the doorways and window wells to keep a concerned eye on the Lord's son.

It was some time before Sesshoumaru painfully picked himself up, leaning against his left arm, spitting blood and teeth from a splintered jaw. The servants watched him warily as he entered the castle slowly, some rushed to help him when he swayed on his feet, but he waved them off as he sought the strength of a pillar instead. With his head down and the long white hair covering his face and shame, he made his way to his quarters.

Sitting cross-legged, he gingerly took off his robe, folding it precisely and placing it to the side of his body. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the bones and tendons in his arms to move. With a hiss of pain, he felt them do just that. Gritting his teeth, he felt the bones move into place and weld together. After repeating the process with his broken jaw, he crawled on his knees to the water basin in the corner of his room. The process of knitting his own bones together had left him exhausted and sweaty. He dipped the corner of a folded white cloth into the basin and tenderly wiped the blood off his face with a shaking hand. After his skin was free of blood and all that remained were various bruises and shallow cuts, things that would heal well enough on their own without his attention, he crawled over to his mat and tiredly draped the thick down blanket over his tired body and slept for nearly two days.

When he finally remerged from his quarters, famished and groggy, the court and his father treated him as though nothing had happened. After eating a meagre breakfast and pretending he wasn't still hungry after it, he made his way to his first lesson with a new tutor. Entering the room where he normally completed his studies, he was surprised to find no one waiting for him. It was some time before the door slid open and one of his father's soldiers bowed deeply to him.

"I am instructed to tell my Lord's son that his lesson has been moved to the outer courtyard."

Surprise made Sesshoumaru frown, but he dutifully followed the man into the outer courtyard where a host of his father's men and one of the generals waited for the young demon.

The senior officer approached Sesshoumaru with an eager smile and handed him a long wooden staff.

"Welcome to your first lesson, Lord Sesshoumaru."


End file.
